Destiny Unfolding
by myrmidryad
Summary: Nimueh woke to cold. Randomish thingy I thought up. Nimueh lives, but she can't leave the island. Find out why and get a lovely history lecture on the origin of the island and those seven stones they weren't always stones . Bonus: Another name for Merlin


**Just because I am utterly random and obsessed and can't resist a good backstory to a creepy location like that island. And Nimueh is just too badass to die! Though getting exploded by lightning was, as deaths go, a damn cool death. But no! In my little universe she lives by the will of the Gods! So...uh...yeah. Read on. :D**

**DISCLAIMED**

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Nimueh woke to cold. Her eyelids fluttered open and she sat up, frowning at her surroundings – she was on the Isle of the Blessed. Her memories were clear – she remembered Merlin drawing lightning from the sky to strike her, remembered the shock electrifying her entire body, stiffening her, making her jerk spasmodically from side to side. Then an explosion of what she had believed was herself.

"Hmm." She raised an eyebrow and looked down at her hand, turning it over and observing it coolly. She brought it to her face and swirled the air around it. A trail of blue-white light followed her fingers and she frowned, the light winking out. If she could perform magic, she couldn't be dead.

"So what am I?" She murmured. Standing up, she still felt connected to the earth beneath her, could see the life in the blades of grass and taste the moisture in the air as mist seeped in off the lake. She was in the circle, and had been lying propped up against the stone table, exactly where Gaius had collapsed after she killed him.

"Strange." She noted, still frowning slightly. What had happened to her after Merlin had attacked her? That lightning bolt should have killed her outright, yet here she stood. Shrugging mentally, unable to shake off the uneasy feeling giving her goosebumps, she concentrated on the mental tie to her cave, and tried to _shift_.

Opening her eyes, Nimueh's mouth opened slightly, her mind revolting against what had _not_ just happened. She hadn't moved. Her frown deepened and she stepped out of the circle, through the streets of the ancient village, and down to the boat dock. There was no boat there – of course there wouldn't be, she thought angrily. Merlin had taken it back to shore, and Gaius' body too.

With a huff of frustration, she swept away to another part of the village where there was another doorway to the lake. She sat down on the step and removed her shoes, lowering her feet to dip them in the water. She couldn't. She sucked in a breath sharply and pushed – an invisible force was laid over the water, preventing her from entering it.

She pulled her toes back swiftly and stood up, glaring. She stretched her hand out and summoned her magic. "_Esĵeŧh άmmæ ђeўtu mé rǽ_." An explosion of light shot from her palm and hit the water in a shower of sparks and hissing. Nimueh covered her eyes with her arm and peeked as the hissing died down.

There was a shimmer over the water where her magic had hit it, almost like a wave of heat. A magical shield. But like none she had ever seen before. She gazed at it curiously, smoke rising from the spot. The shield rippled like water and danced with colours like spilt lamp oil. No sorcerer created shields like that. Not even Merlin.

That was a shield created by beings no longer of earth.

Disconcerted, Nimueh pulled her sandals back on and stepped back, going to an open space and crouching down, concentrating hard. Pulling magic from her well of power, she wrapped it around herself like a second skin and pulled it in.

A few squeezed, uncomfortable seconds later, a glossy little sparrow hopped on the ground where Nimueh had been, preening its feathers and fluffing its wings in sharp, jerky movements.

Nimueh wriggled in her new skin and stretched her wings, darting up to a crumbled wall and perching there for a moment. A little magic improved the poor eyesight of the bird, and Nimueh looked out over the lake, then fluttered higher.

Upon reaching the highest point on the ruined walls, the sparrow cocked her head and peered upwards. There was a faint shimmer in the air above the towers and had Nimueh been able to show human expressions she would have scowled.

She tried anyway, chittering angrily in sparrow, launching herself into the misty sky. She hit a resistance kind of like thick porridge, and though she struggled, flapping her little wings as hard as she could, she couldn't breach the barrier.

She dropped back to the wall and manipulated her skin with the ease of practise. A kestrel stretched her wings several times before leaping into the air and barrel-rolling in a manoeuvre no real kestrel had ever attempted. She attacked the barrier with her talons and beak, raking and pecking at the invisible shield. It bent slightly, but didn't give.

Larger then.

Nimueh dropped again and shifted into white-tailed eagle, the largest bird of prey in Albion. She shook out her broad wings wider than a human's arm span and screamed defiantly at the sky. She leapt and soared upwards to attack the barrier with her huge meat-cleaver beak. It had no effect, but damned if Nimueh was going to let that stop her.

Her eerie screams floating out across the mist, she adjusted her flight path and headed for shore. Again, her flight slowed and she found she couldn't continue. She slashed at it with her talons, wheeled around and headed for the opposite end.

As she approached, she pulled magic up from within her and spat it from her beak. The fireball shot ahead of her, and Nimueh had to wrench her wings and barrel around to avoid getting hit by sparks and flames as the magical fire exploded against the shield as the spell against the water had done.

Nimueh screeched and wheeled around to drop onto a wall, her huge talons gouging deep marks in the ancient rock. Her magic had had no effect. The barrier held, the same rippling patterns of light dancing across it where her fireball had struck.

Nimueh released the magical skin and shifted back to human form, watching as the multi-coloured patterns slowed, then faded altogether. With a frown, the sorceress tried to remember if she had ever seen anything similar.

Her memory was clear and perfect – never.

Pursing her lips, troubled, she turned on top of the wall and looked down at the stone circle. Without thinking, she shifted.

As she appeared on the edge of the grass, she gasped with realisation. She could shift? Closing her eyes, she visualised her cave. Nothing.

Nimueh frowned thoughtfully – she could clearly shift, but not to anywhere beyond the barrier. How vexing. She mused on her strange situation as she turned and walked into the centre of the circle, leaning her arms on the stone altar and cupping her chin in one hand, drumming a restless rhythm with the fingers of the other.

"Wonderful." She remarked to herself dryly. "Trapped. Well…" With a sly smile, she looked around the circle at each of the seven stones. "At least I'm not alone."

Hundreds of years ago, magic had been strong in Albion. The land had not been called that then – it had been Alysseira. Land of shadows.

And surely a more fitting name had never been created. The island was a harsh, desolate place. Tribes fought each other viciously with sword and enchantment alike for the best hunting and farming ground. Druids and priests of the Old Religion walked the land, fighting each other for control of each other's power.

Ancient, powerful dragons and beasts of magic preyed off the people, and the sorcerers sometimes joined them and sometimes attacked them back. Fey roamed the land at will, stealing children and innocent young men and women, bewitching whole villages and drawing their souls into Avalon.

Nimueh was older than her appearance led others to believe, but she was not that old.

The battles had raged, brother against brother, sister against sister. The Gods of the Old Religion saw, and were displeased. It was said that they inspired the people in the lands over the seas to invade Alysseira, to force her people to unite.

And unite they did. Treaties were forged through magic and marriage and strength of warriors, and Alysseira's people rose up together in a great wave of power and crushed the enemy.

The land of shadows had grown a little lighter, but the fey and the fell beasts persisted. The dragons and some of the amiable beasts like unicorns and griffins had joined Alysseira's armies, and the links were forged stronger as the united people turned and destroyed the enemies that lingered in their land.

The hags and werewolves and tartudiks and their fell kin were almost wiped out, as were the darker fey who dared to fight back. Before long, the last of the fell beasts had fled to Avalon, and the fey were mustering their own army.

It was then that the seven greatest sorcerers banded together and used the terrible might of their combined power to bind the fey to Avalon forever. From that moment on, only minor bewitchings took place, only a few babies were stolen, and though the smaller pixies and selkies continued to work their mischief, they could banished now, and killed.

The power of the fey was greatly diminished, and the more powerful retreated to Avalon, where they remained, brooding and angry.

The seven greats – Bandas, Aleira, Nanuk, Tartudan, Beirla, Jөness and Yanteer – built a new Alysseira from the ashes and shadows. A lighter land, not perfect, but better. The feuds and wars were kept to a minimum, the land no longer sang with blades and ran with blood.

Together they built a castle and a city out of stone given willingly by the earth, raised it into the air and placed it in the middle of a lake of magic. Before long it became known as the Isle of the Blessed, where young warlocks and witches could journey to learn more of their craft and dedicate themselves to the Old Religion and become its priests and priestesses.

But then came the great catastrophe.

It was actually two catastrophes – from the west came a great wave. It swamped the land and killed many. From the north came a great fire, unstoppable and fast. It swallowed everything in its path.

After that, Alysseira was fractured. The balances were tilted too far, and the tribes descended into warfare. The fey sensed the darkness overcoming the land once again, and rose to embrace it. Their power grew swiftly, and their appetite was boundless, confined as they had been.

Then came news of invaders from the east. Strange Kings with feuds of their own, bringing more bloodshed as their metal-armoured armies cut down all in their path. They tugged stone from the earth, not hearing her cries, and built castles and houses.

And all the while, the fey grew stronger, feeding off the strife.

The seven greats saw everything and worried in the safety of their Isle. The balance of the world was dangerously unmaintained, and the fey were rising up. As the foreign armies marched upon the Isle, the greats made a terrible choice.

Sending every single other sorcerer on the Isle away, they convened together in the great hall around the sacred altar. Banding their magic together as they had all those years ago, they gave themselves as sacrifices to the Old Religion to re-balance the world and keep the fey contained. When the armies made it over to the island, they found nothing there but seven perfect stones circling an altar engraved with magical runes spelling a prophesy none of them could read.

Nimueh was born at a time of bloodshed and was one of the most powerful sorceresses the land had ever seen. She pulled her power from the earth and wind and waters themselves and was the first to return to the Blessed Isle and become a priestess of the Old Religion.

It was there that she read the prophesy the seven greats had inscribed upon the stone in their last moments, and puzzled over its meaning for many, many years after that. It told of the coming of a time when almost all the creatures of the Old Religion were gone and one man, called ѕáiђŋ ўassẹém, was born with magic enough within him to free the land. It was his destiny to bring about the coming of the once and future King who would unite the land forever.

Nimueh had shrugged at it.

Magic was still free in the land, and though Alysseira had been split up and renamed Mercia, Caledon and a myriad other names, Nimueh still had the land in her blood. As the remaining natives and sorcerers threw their support to the foreigners, Nimueh turned to a man named Uther Pendragon, who had been sympathetic to their plight.

With her assistance, he crushed his enemies and built a new land he named Albion, within which he built a fair city of white stone he called Camelot. He was a fair King, just and kind, and Nimueh became a lady of the court, drinking fine wines and eating sweetmeats and living in comfort.

And then Gaius, the court physician, had come and asked her to grant a child to Igraine, Uther's barren wife. Nimueh refused, but Gaius insisted on Uther's behalf. But only when Uther himself came and asked her did Nimueh hesitantly grant the gift. After all, Igraine was her friend, and her pain hurt Nimueh as well.

Those next few months were the happiest Camelot had ever seen. With her magic, Nimueh had told Uther and Igraine that they could expect a son, and the happy couple lived in bliss. The kingdom of Albion rejoiced.

But when the night of birthing came, however many spells Nimueh cast, however hard she worked, however desperately she laboured, she could not save Igraine.

Uther transformed – without his Igraine, he was a tyrant. He blamed Nimueh and cast her from Camelot in disgrace. Then the destruction began. The purge of Albion ravaged the land. Other kings took up the battle cry and sorcerers everywhere were killed; beheaded, hung or burnt.

Nimueh fled to the caves beneath the forests of Balor, and hid there, mourning the loss of her kin. She huddled over the enchanted water in her rocky tomb and wept bitterly, screaming and wailing as her brothers and sisters were destroyed and the dragons hunted to extinction. The creatures of the Old Religion were broken to such an extent that the last dragon allowed himself to be captured and imprisoned rather than fight back.

So she had started to fight back instead, coming out of her cave and invading Camelot slowly. Then she had found herself summoned to the Isle once again to do the bidding of the Old Religion. She had thought nothing of directing the curse to kill Merlin's mother. She could not take his life in exchange for Arthur's – both had to live for the prophesy to be completed, and it was the will of the Old Religion that neither Arthur nor Merlin die at her hand.

Yet she had died at Merlin's.

Or been trapped. She wasn't dead – she was pretty certain of that.

So what was her purpose here? Nimueh looked around at the misshapen hunks of stone through narrowed eyes and huffed through her nose. Well she wasn't happy about it, whatever her situation was. Thunder rumbled overhead and Nimueh looked up as clouds rolled in, bringing the promise of rain.

With a sigh, she turned away, pulling herself into a wildcat form and trotting away to the cover of the ruined city. She curled herself into a cosy little hole in one of the walls and fell asleep as the storm played out overhead.

As Nimueh slept, she dreamed.

In her dream, she was in her natural human form, standing in the centre of the stone circle, holding on to the altar as the world spun. The world was a darkened place, sketchy and black. Through the darkness and rain, she could just make out the shadowed forms of the seven rocks. Though they seemed to differ slightly in appearance…taller…and thinner…and more human shaped.

Beyond the circle, the ruins of the walls shifted and blurred, the sky completely black. Colours were inverted, white glowing in places that should not have been lit up. It was disconcerting, but Nimueh had eyes only for the sketchy, faint shapes of the seven.

She gasped and straightened as she realised what was going on. "The seven greats…" She breathed, keeping her hold on the altar as her head swivelled back and forth, naming them. "Nanuk, Tartudan, Bandas, Beirla…" She trailed off. "Impossible."

"_Actually, I'm Aleira."_ One of the shapes shifted, the voice low, female and proud.

"_Yanteer."_ The one to her left said mildly.

"_Jөness."_ The last nodded, his voice a deep bass.

"The seven greats." Nimueh swallowed, and bowed deep. "It is an honour."

"_Of course it is."_ Bandas spoke, his voice commanding and strong_. "Nimueh, you have tested the boundaries and discovered something important."_

"I can't leave the island." Nimueh nodded, frowning slightly.

"_Correct."_ Beirla's voice was high and chiming like a bell. _"Your time in the world outside has come to an end with ѕáiђŋ ўassẹém's mastery of the power of life and death."_

"_A new era has begun." _Nanuk's voice was hoarse and sounded distracted and faraway – he was the Seer of the group. _"With no place for you in it, priestess. You should have died, as ѕáiђŋ ўassẹém willed, but the Gods saw fit to spare you…for a new purpose."_

"What purpose?" Nimueh asked suspiciously.

"_You will become keeper of the Isle."_ Bandas spoke again. _"With the beginning of this new era, it will be your duty to protect the island and traffic all those who come here. We will tell you when that will happen."_

"All those who some here?" Nimueh raised an eyebrow sardonically. "No one comes here."

"_But they will."_ Tartudan said sharply. _"Do not forget your place, mortal."_

Nimueh straightened. "If I am chained here, how could I?" She shot back. One of the immortal seven greats he may be, but no one talked to her like that.

"_Peace, brother."_ Yanteer spoke up as Tartudan stirred angrily. Nimueh turned to face the mild magician as he spoke. _"They do not come yet, but they will."_

"Who?" Nimueh asked, turning again as Nanuk raised his voice.

"_My child."_ Nanuk rasped. _"The most powerful Seer this land has ever seen. She will come here. You will help her."_

Nimueh opened her mouth to ask the questions bubbling to the surface of her mind, but Aleira beat her to it.

"_What do you see, brother?"_

"_sáiђŋ ўassẹém has changed the path."_ Nanuk said distantly. _"The great dragon will find a new champion – my daughter. She will free him and fulfil her destiny. With his assistance, she will become Morgan le Fey."_

Morgan le Fey? Nimueh frowned, her mind racing. Queen Morgan of the fey? Change the name to fit the time, feminise it and you got…Morgana. "Lady Morgana?" She gasped. "The King's ward?"

"_She will champion the Old Religion in the battle to come."_ Jөness boomed in his deep voice.

Nimueh breathed deeply taking it all in. "I understand. I will do this task you set me."

"_As if you had a choice."_ Beira's high voice rang with amusement. _"But enough. Sleep, Nimueh. Your part to play in the time ahead is small, but vital. Fulfil this task, and you will live forever as one of the Four." _Her voice rang with prophesy and Nimueh felt something stirring inside her.

"The Four?" She asked softly. "The Four what?"

"_The Four Bearers of the Once and Future King as he journeys to Avalon."_ Nanuk breathed hoarsely_. "Throughout everything, this vision remains clear to me."_

"_Let us hope it remains so." _Tartudan snapped._ "Our time here grows short, Beirla. Send the priestess back to sleep."_

"My name is Nimueh." Nimueh drew herself up tall and glared the shadowy form in the two dark smudges she took for eyes. "And you would do well to remember it, stone man."

Aleira laughed out loud, rich and low. _"I like her."_ She said admiringly. _"But Tartudan is right, sister. Return Nimueh to her body."_

"_Of course."_ Nimueh saw a brief flash of ice-blue where Beira stood, and a sudden vision of a rail thin woman with straight white hair and pale skin, but kind eyes, before the world disappeared into whiteness.

When she woke, the storm had passed, and dew beaded her wildcat fur. Shaking it out and washing her whiskers, Nimueh stretched slowly, clawing at the ground for the sheer joy of feeling earth between her claws before dissipating the magical skin and standing up, in human form once more.

She walked thoughtfully into the centre of the circle of stones, contemplating her dream-vision. The Lady Morgana? Well that was certainly an interesting surprise. Nimueh looked around, opening her senses and casting her magic.

The stones hummed with deep magics, ancient and powerful, pulsing slowly like a dragon's heartbeat. The altar was imbued with magic as well, layered and lined and criss-crossed like a ball of thread, with each thread a colour according to the great sorcerer who had laid the spell.

Nimueh recognised Beirla's white-blue, and matched up the other colours to the other greats – deep red for Aleira, black for Bandas, vibrant green for Jөness, earth-brown for Yanteer, rich purple for Tartudan and fog-coloured for Nanuk. She smiled in amusement, then jerked with surprise as her magic brushed over something familiar.

She ran, the tattered ends of her once-magnificent dress flying out around her legs like flames. After a few minutes' search, she climbed still-intact steps into an almost-intact tower room. Most of the roof was still there, but some had gone, as had part of the round wall, offering a splendid view of the shore, cloaked in grey fog. From here, Nimueh would be able to see anyone approaching by boat.

But Nimueh was not focused on the view. She had eyes only for the object in the centre of the room – her stone scrying pool, still blue and damp from her caves. She hissed with joy and ran to it, clutching the sides and laughing delightedly at her reflection.

Without having to even think about it, she drew her hand across the surface, just brushing the water. The pool darkened and then lightened to show a view of Camelot. Nimueh laughed wickedly and clapped her hands, a flash of her eyes destroying the vision. With her pool, she was happy.

Still grinning, she returned to the circle and smirked as she waltzed over to the stone that was Tartudan. She gave it her most seductive look, and kissed it chastely, smiling with narrowed eyes as she imagined the expression on the magician's face were he human and able to respond.

With one last smirk, she bowed to the other stones and minced from the circle. She was alive, had a part to play in the drama she could watch unfolding from her pool, and was virtually guaranteed a place in Avalon as a Bearer. "Avalon," she breathed, her eyes dancing. With that destiny ahead of her, she would do anything the greats asked of her.

Up in her tower, Nimueh observed Camelot, watching Merlin, Arthur, Guinevere and especially Morgana as they played out their fates. Alone and forgotten, the sorceress smiled as the web of destiny unfolded beneath her, rippling like water ruffled by a breeze.

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**So whaddaya think? :D Good? Bad? Ugly? Personally I was going for a more mystery-epic thing...but hey. Reviews are love, people! Let's hear it! Even if you can't think of anything to say AT ALL, just reviewing to say you read all of it will make my day. No really, I am that sad. :D**


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